Symphony
by Metallic Ghost
Summary: The aftermath was...difficult. Tribute to Nicol Amarfi, spoilers.


A/N: Another one-shot. I really need to write more of these.

**Disclaimer:** I claim no part of Gundam SEED. It's just a fandom I'm happy to write for.

**Warnings: **Slight Angst, Spoilers

* * *

"Will you be all right?"

"Leave me the fuck alone."

Dearka took that as a no, but he figured it would be best to do as Yzak said before he got something thrown at him, and so he waited for the door to open and backed out of the room. A ways down the hallway, he stopped to press back against the wall and sighed, tilting his head back and closing his eyes.

He understood Yzak's mood. It was no less sour than usual, but the sour had turned to something akin to acid, burning into his words and his limited actions. He hadn't been crying, Yzak never cried in front of others, but Dearka had seen the sadness in his slower-than-usual movements and dull but vehement responses. If that could not serve as proof, there were the dents in the poor locker. Nicol's locker.

With a start, Dearka realized he had left Athrun alone in favor of wrestling Yzak from the room and back to his own. Cursing mildly under his breath, Dearka now realized that maybe that had been a bad idea. Granted, Athrun would never do as much damage as Yzak had, but still.

Straightening up, Dearka turned to go back to the room, frowning a little in thought. Le Creuset was bound to discover the beaten-up locker sooner than later, as he tended to know things without questioning anyone who may have been responsible and certainly wasn't as busy a man as his demeanor sometimes professed (my my, that certainly said a lot). However, it stood to reason that the man would not be the least bit upset over it, as Creuset had kept a smooth, calm manner in nearly every occasion. There would be no repercussions from him.

It would be punishment enough to walk into the room and see the reminder, think of the reason.

Dearka stopped outside his destination, beside the wall and just before the door so that the sensors would not activate and reveal him. He listened hard. There was no noise from inside, and he bit his lip unconsciously. That worried him. Athrun was not the type to be unnecessarily loud, but for there to be no sound from him at all...

He shifted slightly and then flinched as the door slid open with a whir. So much for keeping himself a secret. Dearka sighed lightly and stepped over the threshold.

Then he realized that quiet would not have mattered anyway, because Athrun would not have noticed.

The teenager was curled up against the back of the lockers, knees drawn up to his chest and head bowed so his eyes were shadowed and hidden. Given his slow, slightly ragged breathing, Dearka judged that he was asleep.

A pang of dark emotion struck him as Dearka's eyes roved over the scattered white sheets on the floor, and the ones Athrun held. His friend was clutching them so very tightly, even in his sleep. Dearka found that it hurt to see the scene, but he could not look away forever. His eyes drifted from the items on the floor up to the open, dented door of the locker and the remaining personal items inside that locker.

His heart twisted and he swallowed hard, already moving forward. With dry eyes, Dearka picked up the sheets of piano notes scattered about the floor and straightened them neatly, placing them back in the locker. Then, he bent down and carefully picked up his emotionally-worn friend. He knew it was best not to try and take the sheets of paper from Athrun, but it still made his chest ache to know that his friend would have to remember all over again when he awoke.

Shutting the useless locker door with his elbow, Dearka forced his gaze from it and started out of the room, Athrun asleep and never once stirring in his arms. He chanced a glance down at his friend and had to swallow again when he realized that there were sticky tear tracks on Athrun's cheeks, the boy's eyes rimmed with red and his breathing a little harsh.

_I should have known. _

Dearka felt a familiar pang of emotion. This time it was guilt, he knew; he should not have left Athrun alone. He should not have left him alone.

But this was not his fault.

Swallowing a third time, Dearka kept his eyes locked on the hallway, following his memorized path to Athrun's room. He did not falter as he passed the room that had belonged to Nicol, continuing carefully and deliberately.

_It isn't fair, is it? It's not._

Into Athrun's room, and Dearka crossed the few feet to the bed. He did not bother shedding Athrun of his piloting uniform and changing him into something more comfortable, respectful of his friend's privacy and hardly caring about clothing anyway. Instead, he gently laid Athrun down on the bed, arranging him in a comfortable position but being mindful of the papers he held. Dearka did not touch them.

When he was satisfied, Dearka stood for a moment watching Athrun's limp figure. Reaching out hesitantly, he ran his fingers over deep blue hair, brushing it away from Athrun's face. A very small smile came to his lips as he turned and walked out of the room, killing the lights and then allowing the door to shut behind him.

Tomorrow would be another day. Tomorrow, they would fight again, trying their hardest to defeat the enemy, to fulfill their objective. Tomorrow, they would go back to their lives.

But tomorrow, nobody would be humming a symphony.

_owari_


End file.
